Sacred Grounds
by raydyan
Summary: AU - Ancient Rome. She was a vestal virgin. He was a soldier. Their love was forbidden. Temperance and Booth make choices that will affect their lives in their lifetime and the next. Prequel to Sacred Fire.
1. Prologue

**Sacred Grounds**

Genre: Drama/Romance – Booth and Brennan pairing

Summary: Booth and Brennan uncover a conspiracy while they face choices that will change their lives in their lifetime and the next.

Timeline: Alternate Universe. Ancient Rome.

Disclaimer: The characters of Bones belong to Kathy Reichs, Hart Hanson, Barry Josephson and FOX.

* * *

**Prologue**

**55 AD**

"_I'm going to be strong. I'm not going to cry."_ Temperance chanted in her mind as she shifted on her seat and looked back through the coach's window. She watched her mother and brother's waving hands grow smaller until the dust produced by the horses' hooves clouded her vision. She lingered, perched on the back of the seat until their figures disappeared and got replaced by trees that went on forever.

"You'll see them again, Tempe. I'll take them to visit as often as I can." Her father gently tapped her shoulder.

Temperance nodded her head, afraid that words would trigger the tears and she wouldn't be able to stop. Her father explained that their journey to Rome would be an adventure. This trip would be her life's greatest honor; to be presented to the high priest, and if selected, to be a priestess in training. Her six year old mind tried to understand what her father meant but failed.

She recalled her mother that morning, who tearfully donned her with her most favorite dress. "_Tempe, this gown will look beautiful on you. The high priest will think you the most worthy little girl in Rome."_

_Temperance obediently stood still as her mother tied the ribbons in front of her. She attempted one more time to sway her mother's favors. "Mama, I'd rather be plain and stay here with you. Don't you want me to stay? I promise to be good. Even to Russell, I'll be good with him too."_

_Her mother's fingers stilled. She leaned down and planted a kiss on her cheek. "You're my angel and don't ever forget it. I will always want you. Letting you go breaks my heart. But sometimes, the gods require us to make sacrifices."_

_Temperance hugged her mother's waist. Her small framed rocked as she sobbed her grief. Her mother held her until the tears stopped. _

"_No more tears. Okay. Promise me, no more tears for papa." Her mother wiped her cheeks with her thumbs and run a wet cloth over her face before going with her downstairs. _

Temperance looked up to see her father gazing at her with concern. She tried to smile for him to ease his heart, but all she managed to do was lift the corners of her mouth, a gesture that resembled a quiver more than a smile. She took her father's arm instead and hugged it as she laid her head against his shoulder.

"Tempe, wake-up." Her father nudged her gently as she felt the couch slow down.

Temperance rubbed her eyes with the back of her fisted hands, hands that would grow long and lean but were still filled with flesh of a child not deprived of sustenance. "Are we in Rome yet?"

"No, Tempe. But I'm glad this road has been worked on so our passage was smooth and you were able to get some sleep." Her father traced a hint of darkness under her usually vibrant blue eyes. "I know you didn't sleep well last night."

Not wanting to upset her father, Temperance nodded and looked outside. She saw a little boy with dark skin and curly dark hair playing at the side of the road. His wooden sword sliced the air in front of him, his movements mimicking a soldier in battle.

"We're passing by a village to rest the horses for a little while. Would you like to eat?"

Turning her attention back to her father, "I'm not hungry papa, but I want to take a walk. May I step outside while the horses take their rest?"

With her father's permission, the maid who rode in another couch was fetched to accompany Temperance outside. She did not wander too far, but stood under a tree that gave her shade under the intense heat of the sun. Her maid sat beside her, wiping her wrinkled forehead with her forearms.

The houses in the village was unlike her own, their design more simple, clusters of small thatched huts built with wood and clay. Most inhabitants must have gone indoors as the sun reached its peak, except for a few children playing outside, including the little boy who seemed determined to win his imaginary fight.

Temperance observed him until he caught her watching. She wanted to look away but his reaction stopped her. Instead of reprimanding her as her brother would do, the little boy smiled and put both hands behind his back to make a grand bow. With a grin, he resumed his sword fight.

Intrigued, Temperance walked closer to him. She stopped when an elderly man approached the boy. He too had a wooden sword.

The newcomer greeted her. "Good day. Here to watch a good fight, my lady?"

Temperance, not used to being addressed as a lady, beamed and nodded.

Before starting, the little boy asked. "What's your name?"

Hesitating, but not wanting to deny the first friendly face she saw upon leaving her home, she replied. "Temperance."

"Well, Seeley, lets show Temperance how soldiers win a war." The elderly man stroked his sword down and this was easily blocked by the boy's own. The father and son displayed their sword fighting skills as Temperance watched with fascination.

"You're both very good." She commented politely as they took a break for a drink.

Handing the cup to his father after taking a few gulp, Seeley said proudly, "I'm going to be a soldier one day, and serve the emperor of Rome. That's why I practice with the sword everyday."

Temperance, reminded she has left home and going to an unknown place called Rome, sobered. "I'm going to Rome too. But I don't have any friends there."

The little boy walked up to her, he was a head taller. "I'm going there when I'm grown-up. I will call on you if you'd like."

Appealed with the idea, Temperance nodded. "I shall like to see you. My papa is taking me at a Temple; you can look for me there."

"Are you ready, Seeley?" His father called and they resumed the practice.

Temperance watched until her father called her name. Not wanting to interrupt, Temperance picked up her skirt and walked back to the coach where the horses were being readied for travel. Unknown to her, the little boy turned to see her go and missed a hit that landed him on his back with the tip of his father's wooden sword on his chest. She also didn't hear the father say, "Seeley, you've just learned the most important rule in fighting. Don't lose your head over a pretty girl's face."

Seeley wouldn't know the truth in these words until years later when he met Temperance again.

Temperance settled back in the coach and just as she started, she watched as father and son continued their sword fight until they too got lost in the cloud of dust and distance.

It would be another twenty five years before she saw him again.

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A/N Feedback would be nice :)


	2. Chapter 1

Author's note: Thank you for the feedback. I realize this piece isn't quite mainstream, but I hope those of you who decide to continue reading will like it :) As one of the readers noted, this is a difficult era to write. If you have general knowledge of First Century Roman Empire, I would love to have someone beta the content/historical consistencies. Otherwise, please read this as a work of fiction and a character drama. Thank you :)

Rating: T for mature subject content

_**Sacred Grounds

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**_

**Chapter 1**

"_I take you, Amata, to be a Vestal priestess, who will carry out sacred rites which it is the law for a Vestal priestess to perform on behalf of the Roman people, on the same terms as her who was a Vestal on the best terms." (ref.)_

Temperance kneeled in front of the bones, mindful not to disturb them. She moved her lantern closer, examining the skull which bore no resemblance to the face of the man who owned it. She was fascinated by the sharpness of the cheekbones and hollowness of the space where the eyes had been.

She felt no fear, but when she heard a dripping sound behind, she immediately looked back. She waited, expecting the darkness to reveal light and shadowed forms of soldiers who without doubt would want to see her discovery.

It had started out as a normal day. Temperance was in the labyrinth, a revised will from one of the senators in her hand. She was entrusted the will for safe-keeping, so she was on her way to the altar where most sacred documents were kept.

As a young adult, barely thirteen, she learned the layout of the rooms as well as she knew the holy texts of Vesta. But with the celebrations, the Vestalia, soon to take place, her mind must have wandered and she took a wrong turn, leading her to a room where she stumbled upon the bones that lay in front of her.

Temperance heard footsteps on the mudded grounds, three sets if her sensitive hearing was correct.

"My lady, the high priestess has sent the soldiers to you." Angela, one of the servants whom Temperance also considered a friend, announced. Temperance had summoned her for help earlier when she found the bones.

One of the soldiers had a smaller frame, his features unremarkable except for bright blue eyes that even the dark could not conceal. Or perhaps his beard covered what could have been a well structured face.

"Jack and Booth have come to look at the skeletons." Angela declared without looking at the bones.

Temperance's line of vision switched from Jack to Booth, and Booth's large frame was more evident in comparison to his companion's.

Temperance saw brown intelligent eyes and a well-framed body covered with lacerna, or a cloak. Ordinary features that did not explain why she held his gaze longer than was polite. As if she saw an old friend by chance in a crowded room, standing still in a hazy movement of people around. As if a touch brushed her heart causing a light hitch in her breath, leaving it joyful from the contact.

Temperance didn't see the grown man the boy whose path she once crossed had become. But her soul recognized what her mind did not.

Booth hadn't moved since the moment he saw her. In war, he owed his life to keen senses that gauged danger or safety. He made judgments in split seconds between life and death.

Booth exhaled a breath, his muscles tense. His heart was drumming in anticipation, to leap or catch, until her inevitable possession was complete. His body had already made decisions even before his consciousness possessed the knowledge his instincts wanted to act on.

It took Booth a few minutes to understand, for his mind to recognize her.

It wasn't her hair, although they remained soft tangles of dark gold around her upturned face. Nor her eyes, despite them retaining the hue of the sky. It was neither her color, nor features, nor scent.

It was the strength of his response to her, the way she made him feel with how she looked at him. He was a boy, now a man, wanting to impress and please.

It took all his strength to hold his muscles still, to see the white gown she wore and what it signified.

Temperance's inner sense must have sensed Booth's intent because she instinctively stepped back, before her mind took over and had her standing with shoulders straight. She was the picture of casual detachment.

"Thank you for coming so quickly." Belatedly, she remembered the will she was supposed to store for safekeeping, and put both hands behind her back to hide it. She was sure, however, that the gesture was not lost on the soldiers.

Nodding for her to continue, Temperance explained. "I almost tripped on the skeletons. I realize now that I took a wrong turn."

She felt like she was on display, Booth's intent look was making her feel uncomfortable.

He asked. "Who else goes here? Who would normally take this path?"

Referring to the vestal virgins, Temperance responded. "We would go here to store the wills from the senators, or documents from the emperor himself. At present only about a dozen or so know the correct directions to the altar."

"Are you saying that whoever this person was, clearly was on the wrong path?" It was Jack who made the conclusion.

"Yes, if his intention was to reach the altar, then he was certainly going the wrong way." She wanted to look at Jack as she spoke back to him but couldn't look anywhere else but Booth. She felt like cobwebs were behind her, wrists and legs tied in invisible knots and looking away made his pull stronger.

Luckily, he asked her. "Who else knows about this place?"

"Most of the senate, the guards, and servants know this location. Sometimes, we're accompanied to the door, most times, we're not. But it doesn't matter; only the priestesses hold the key and can walk here by touch and memory."

"Do you have any idea who could have wandered down here?"

He hadn't moved closer, nor changed the way he spoke, but Temperance felt that he was closing in on her. "No. I have no speculation." Feeling cornered, she added. "I called for you, soldier, it's your role to figure that out."

She thought she saw a hint of a smile before he replied, "I hope to call on you for counsel, I have a feeling that these skeletons are linked with the occasion taking place here at the temple."

She wanted to say no and that she would appoint another vestal to provide him with aid. But she couldn't. And if she was being honest with herself, she was intrigued with the hint of his smile and wanted to see what he looked like if he gave her a full one. "As you wish, I will ask permission from the high priestess on your behalf."

Looking to Angela, she offered her hand. "Come, Angela. We'll take our leave and let them do their work."

Angela moved quickly, walking out of the room and showing her distaste for dirt and bones that were the object of their discussion.

Temperance felt the cobwebs loosen around her as Booth finally turned his attention away from her and examined the scene. This gave her courage to suggest, "I believe that man was killed. His arms were broken and there are markings on his bone. Something sharp was used."

"Man? Knife wound? How would you know?"

"We do more here than tend fires, sir. Good day."

His tone stopped her as if he himself held her arm in a grip she imagined would be tight but tender. "Tell me how you know."

She didn't understand the pull she felt towards him. Nor she understood why she felt compelled to respond. She would regret the invitation, knew she was borrowing trouble before she issued it. She did regardless. "Ask one of the servants to show you to the library when you're done here. I will go there when I'm finished my duties. You may wait for me there."

She walked out as regally as she could.

He said like a whispered promise, "I will see you then."

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_(ref: http:// www . stoa . org/diotima/anthology/wlgr/wlgr-religion408.shtml#fn _


	3. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Ever since I went to Italy, I've been fascinated by the Roman Forums and wondered about the lives of the people who lived there, particularly the vestal virgins. I saw them not as priestesses but as women. I wanted to explore that idea, so here you have 'Sacred Grounds'. I really appreciate the feedback, so thanks for leaving me a note : ) I also wanted to clarify that 'Sacred Grounds' is a prequel to 'Sacred Fire'.

Rating: T for mature subject content.

_**Sacred Grounds

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**_

**Chapter 2**

Booth waited for Temperance at the library until dawn, when the sun completed circling around the earth and the moon was waiting its turn. The pristine surroundings with thick volumes of books along the walls and lamps lighting the room increased Booth's awareness that he was a soldier, a sinner, in the heart of a temple that was pure.

He made it halfway to the door and back a dozen times and lost count of the times he shifted in his seat, unsure of whether to stay or go. It was with knowledge that it was probably Temperance's intent to make him wait so very long and provoke him to leave in his own accord that brought him back to his chair each time he longed for the door to escape.

He would wait for her until Vesta herself showed him out the door.

Booth was rewarded by Temperance's presence moments later, followed by Angela who brought him a tray of wine and fruits.

Because his father raised him with good manners, Booth stood up despite his irritation. "You've decided to finally meet with me."

With something close to a smirk as a priestess was allowed, she replied, "You were free to leave at any time, soldier."

Booth narrowed his eyes, letting her know that her tactics were noticed and not appreciated. "I know."

She shrugged and gestured for Angela to set the tray of food on the table next to his chair. He figured it was the only apology he was going to get, a peace offering of some kind from her.

Temperance sat across from him with Angela taking the seat next to her. "You may sit."

"Thank you, my lady." Booth didn't care if there was no gratitude in his tone. He didn't like the way she spoke to him. But he needed her, at least for now; he needed her knowledge about the remains she found. _Need _was such a powerful word that he didn't like using it in relation to anything, or anyone, let alone a beautiful woman who was protected by the gods. Nonetheless, his views did not change the facts.

Temperance waited until Booth had a few bites of grapes and a sip of wine. Gesturing around her to indicate the varied collection of books at the temple, she stated. "I have duties here, which leave me little time for much else. But we're educated as well, and I love to read."

Skeptical, Booth found it hard to reconcile the woman in front of him reading about gore and elements of the earth. Looking at her in her white flowing gown, the material representation of everything pure, chaste and holy, Booth clarified. "You read about killings and death?"

She tilted her chin up, "I read about everything that is required to do my duties."

He wanted to loosen the ribbons threaded in her hair, or tug the headdress resting on her shoulders, or shake her to remind her that she was human and not some unfeeling goddess that she projected herself to be. "So tell me about this man in the labyrinth, if indeed he was a man."

"Women have wider hip bones, which makes me think the body I found was a man. He was tall, already a grown person. A grown woman would have reared a few children and there was no way the narrow hips could carry a babe. I stand with my belief that the body was a man."

Booth looked at her intently; she was speaking like she was telling him about the weather and not a person who was killed. He studied her, not believing that someone whose warmth he could almost feel and taste could speak so coldly. He almost believed the contradiction if not for the telling beat of the pulse beneath her jaw.

This wasn't as easy for her as she wanted him to believe. He wondered why she needed to put up an act for him. "I believe you. Which leads me to my next question; do you know of a man missing around here?"

Temperance and Angela looked at each other. Booth sensed their hesitation. Temperance was first to look away, leaving Angela to reveal what she may know should she wish to do so.

Booth gave her the time to decide before demanding a response. His patience was rewarded.

From the pocket of her modest light blue gown, Angela produced a paper and handed it to him. "Last harvest time, there was a guard who had been watching the gates of the labyrinth. I've seen him in passing and know not much about him. He left quite suddenly and didn't hold his post for long."

Booth studied a sketch of a man, the details quite elaborate for someone who only had a passing knowledge of him. He suspected that Angela was more than a servant to the priestesses and knew the man more intimately. "What can you remember about him? Any information may help."

"He came from the south, his name was Persinger." Blinking away some tears, Angela added, "He was as tall as you, his shoulders a bit narrower. I tried to draw him the best I can."

Booth saw Temperance squeeze Angela's hands. She turned to him, "Her drawing is accurate. I remember him as well and she captured his face quite well."

Angela nodded, this time unable to hold her tears. "I'm sorry, my lady, please excuse me. I need the privacy of my room."

Temperance walked Angela to the door. If she wasn't friendly with him earlier, Booth believed that he just now became close to being an enemy. Frowning, she accused, "You've upset her."

Booth saw the lines that marred between her brows. He took a step closer to her, but she walked back. He just wanted to comfort her, to take the frown off her face, so without thought, he followed her. They danced these steps until she was against the wall, the heave of her breath doubling with each step. She kept her eyes with his until she had nowhere else to go.

Temperance didn't know what to do. She had done her best to remind him of who she was in relation to him. Without being haughty, she had tried to distance herself from him. Didn't he know that he couldn't look at her like that, that look that made her heart beat faster?

He was closing in on her. For a moment, she felt afraid. But she knew he wouldn't hurt her. She held her breath and waited, unaware that her lips had parted and each breath displayed the contours of her chest. The marbled wall made cold contact behind her but she felt his warmth in front of her, without touching him. Beads of sweat trickled between her breasts.

But he didn't do anything except use his thumb to wipe the frown between her brows. His words sounded like an apology. "I've upset you as well, I'm sorry."

She almost felt disappointed without understanding what she expected him to do. She was tall but he was taller and his height surrounded her. He invaded her space and she didn't know what to do. "Mind your distance, sir."

Booth blinked; perhaps he didn't realize how close he'd been to her. He took a couple of steps back. "I'll see what I can find about Persinger that may help confirm the identity of the remains you found."

Temperance took a few steps as well to slide away from the wall. "Thank you. Good night, sir."

Before Booth could respond, Temperance escaped the library and found comfort in her own room. She shut her door and rested her forehead against it. In the dark, she placed her right hand against her heart and willed it to beat slower. For the first time in her life, she didn't understand what was happening to her body. Her interactions with Booth always left her pulse pounding and her middle a throbbing ache.

Author's note: Thanks for reading - Feedback would be nice : )


	4. Chapter 3

Author's Note: I really enjoy reading about what people think of the story : ) Thank you for them.

Rating: T for mature subject content.

_**Sacred Grounds

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**_

**Chapter 3**

The air was thick with smoke from the cremation process. Smoke clung to the trees and hugged the leaves as a dying man would grasp for air. The remnants Temperance found in the labyrinth have been buried on the hills near the temple. No ceremonies, no elaborate procession on the street, just a simple eulogy spoken by Angela who knew him as a friend, or perhaps as more. A few fellow guards who remembered him witnessed her speech.

Angela's words drifted in Temperance's memory; her recollection of how Persinger was a good man who loved his family. Angela noted his lopsided grin and the smiles it brought to all who knew him; she spoke words about his wit, his bravery, his kindness.

Temperance wondered how a life of more than thirty years could be compiled to a few words; a few words and a tragic death. It was wrong how life could be summarized in a pile of bones burning in the pit along the side of the road and a wooden marker etched with a man's name: Persinger.

It was wrong that a life of someone's son, brother, friend and lover had ended with no resolution. No reason or cause for death. There was something unjust in how his impoverished family, who could not come to see him for a final time, would also be denied with the knowledge of how he died. It was unfair for a man to end his life so violently and not receive the truth he deserved.

_At least you helped give him a name_; a name that was carefully etched on the wood that marked his grave with letters that were crafted with loving hands. Angela's doing.

So Temperance came to the grave with a lantern, an offering to help the man light his way to Hades. She dropped it on the freshly laid soil and thought about how she could help him.

"Somehow, I expected you to be here."

It was funny that Booth said those words because Temperance could have said the same thing. She wasn't startled when he came unannounced. These days, she always expected him. "What are you talking about?"

Booth gestured the lack of people around the graveyard. Everyone had taken their leave hours ago, even Angela who was heart broken and couldn't bear to separate from the grave. She too had left with a friend. "You. Here. Now."

"I have reason to be here."

"Everyone else has gone."

She tried to ignore him, although this was impossible because she was acutely aware of his scent, his voice, his sight, his presence. Each movement he made pulled a corresponding knowing within her she couldn't explain.

So Temperance did what she knew best, she spoke with a voice of authority and reason. "I was thinking."

"About what?"

"There's no purpose for anyone to go to the labyrinth unless they want to put a will or document in the altar for safekeeping."

Booth looked at her as if studying her words. But Temperance felt that he was trying to get in her mind, as if looking deep in her eyes would reveal her thoughts. She shivered, afraid he was right.

Finally, he spoke, "Or to retrieve documents."

Booth's logic sparked her thinking. "Or replace them."

He nodded, approving her quick interpretation. "But what motive would anyone have to go in the labyrinth whereas one of you is at their disposal?"

Temperance released a breath, going through the scenarios in her head. If she kept talking about the mystery of the man's death, then she could detach herself from him. "If someone asks one of us to put or retrieve or change a will, there will be records of the person requesting it."

"I'm certain that the person who killed Persinger wanted his activities to remain unknown. And he also doesn't know his way around the grounds because he was on the wrong path."

With a frown, Temperance said, "You're referring to a lot of people. No one knows their way around the grounds except for the vestals. None of the senators or the emperor will go in there, and if they did, the guards will recognize them and let them be."

"It must be a messenger then, someone bidden to do the job."

"That doesn't leave you much to work on."

"No, it doesn't. But I'll keep looking. What you've told me today helps."

They stood side by side near the grave, as if waiting for the other to depart. It was like being trapped in a fog in the woods, their bearings unknown, and the surroundings unsafe. But there was something earthly and magical about being in the middle of the fog; it was as close to the place of the gods as humans could ever be without death.

Booth's voice was deep and rich, Temperance imagined sin sounded like it. "Why are you fascinated by the man's death, Temperance?"

Her name sounded like ambrosia from his lips. She was almost heady because of it. "Life and death are often intertwined, don't you think? Fire gives life and fire can take it as well."

He walked around her, as if tasting her words in his mouth. "I suppose you know about fire more than anyone."

She heard the hesitation in his voice. It took all her will to keep still with her chin in the air as he continued to walk, almost stalk, around her.

"But, priestess, what do you know of life and death?" He paused in front of her, looking down. "Have you ever seen a child brought to the world or held a man bleeding to death in your arms? What do you know of life from your high perch at the temple? Do you know about cries at night for wanting of food? Have you looked at another's eyes and know he means you harm?"

Booth didn't know what came over him to say these words to Temperance. She didn't deserve the cruelty in his tone. It wasn't her fault that she lived a protected life.

But the man inside him wanted to take the white gown she wore and tear them to pieces. He wanted to shake her and rub dirt on skin that hasn't known the harsh elements of the sun. He wanted her to stomp those dainty feet sheltered with gold slippers so she would know the textures of the ground. He wanted her to stop being so distant and cold. He wanted her to _feel_ things. He wanted to show her how.

Booth recalled the little girl who stood by the side of the tree. She was very pretty, and quite memorable if after all these years he remembered her. But she stood apart and watched him with curiosity and innocence; he wished she'd taken the other wooden sword to play instead. There was so much joy in playing that an observer would never know from watching.

But Booth was a man now, long past the age of games. Old enough to know that play, although imitated life, was no where near the intensity of the real thing. In life, the pain was more intense, the hurt was deeper, and loss caused emptiness that could tear the soul.

But life also brought joy. And he wanted her to feel it. So Booth asked her again.

"What do you know about life? About butterflies that flutter and land on your palm?" Temperance moved back, as if she wanted to escape, so with two strong arms, Booth trapped her between his body and a tree.

There was paper-thin distance between them as he leaned and whispered in her ears, "You claim to know about fire? What do you know of fire in the middle of the forest where everywhere else is cold except for the fire on the pit and the body next to you? What do you know of fire from stolen kisses under the stars? What do you know of fire when a man takes you for the first time?"

She surprised him when she didn't push back.

She surprised him when she looked at him with fire in her eyes and said, "You're right. I don't know about butterflies and kisses and mating. Does that please you?"

He didn't want to hurt her and he was glad to see her fight back. "No. It doesn't."

Temperance wanted to tell him that she knew more about the world than he assumed. But his words reminded her of reflections she had already done; despite the privileges she had, the materials goods and high regards, she knew about little else.

So she took his insults for they were the truth.

He stepped backed and took her hands as he would a goddess to whom he offered his prayers. He said, "You've given me assistance figuring out the mysteries of the remains you found. I owe you for that."

She wanted to contradict him; he owed her nothing. But he continued, almost daring her, "You know about justice and fairness. Don't you, priestess? Let me give you something back. A fair trade. You will continue to help me with uncovering the mysteries of Persinger's death and I will show you about what you've been missing in life."

When she didn't respond, he asked again. "Will you let me show you?"

She wanted to resist, but how could she when he offered her dreams? "Tomorrow, there's a terrace behind the temple. Meet me there after supper."

Before she could change her mind, Temperance stepped away and disappeared in the smoke that continued to hover around the trees.

Then, from a distant, she added, "No stolen kisses under the stars."

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A/N: I'm taking some time developing the background, sorry if it's a bit slow. Are the characters believable? Is there a scene you liked the most? A scene that you thought didn't work? 


	5. Chapter 4

Author's note: Thanks for letting me know your thoughts; I really appreciate them : ) One of you made a great suggestion to pick Latin names…I couldn't change Temperance's and Booth's name this far along in the story, but I picked a name for one of the priestesses that I hope is more authentic to the era.

_**Sacred Fire****

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** _

**Chapter 4**

Temperance kneeled in front of the fire flaming endlessly at the hearth of the Temple. The moon was full and low with moving wisps of clouds occasionally hiding part of it in the sky. The dinner bell sounded signifying the end of supper. The younger priestesses, those under twelve, were likely being given baths before bed by female servants who had come to know them like family would. Of course, propriety prevented them from ever acknowledging that fact.

"My lady." Claudia, a young priestess aged seventeen, was tending to the fire and she greeted Temperance with a smile.

The two of them kneeled silently, comfortable in each other and soothed by the fire that was their life's work.

Temperance knew that Booth was waiting for her. She had her doubts the whole day but had finally convinced herself that meeting with him was inconsequential. It was just a meeting, to talk, that was all.

She knew the rules.

Nothing would change.

She just so desperately wanted to know.

She craved the knowledge of the world outside her sacred walls. To know what lay ahead behind the veils that covered her eyes. She just wanted a glimpse of the human heart that the poets contemplated, mocked, and lamented; but despite all that, celebrated as well. She had felt this restlessness for a while, a void that her duties and roles could not quite fulfill.

It would be harmless and no one would know.

_Liar._

_If it was harmless, you won't need to justify why you're meeting him. _

_In secret._

Claudia startled Temperance out of an internal battle that had a clear victor.

"My lady, may I speak to you in confidence?"

"Please, do." Temperance looked at the young woman with concern. Her first instinct was to reach out and protect. "Is there something wrong?"

Claudia tilted her head to the side, "I don't know. But the body you discovered, it brought back a memory that I've dismissed as something insignificant."

Temperance stood up and offered her arm to Claudia. The fire would keep for the coming night. "Come, tell me about it."

Claudia took her offered arm and they walked side by side. Their white gown had grown a shade darker because of the smoke from the fire. "A man approached me on behalf of one of the senators whose name escapes me now. He asked me to retrieve a will and replace it with the one he carried with him. I did not think anything suspicious as the will bore a legitimate seal."

Temperance paused in front of the door that led to the terrace, "Go on."

"When I asked his name to record the change, he withdrew the document and stated that he forgot another set and will return with both of them."

Temperance thought this new information may lead to Persinger's killer. She wanted to be sure. "Could he have, perhaps, bidden one of the others at another time?"

Claudia nodded. "Yes, he could have. That is the reason I neglected to raise alarm. But now, given the guard's death, I thought perhaps I should let someone know."

Temperance was glad she did. She could not wait to tell Booth about it. "You did the right thing. Pray, do you remember his face?"

Claudia was eager to assist. "I do, he had distinctive features; he was fair and small with a pointed nose and wicked eyes."

"Go, tell Angela about it. She can help you recreate the face on a sheet and we can give it to one of the soldiers."

Claudia lifted her gown to prevent from tripping as she dashed off to find Angela. Temperance shook her head, despite her poise and eloquent manners, Claudia was still a girl who sometimes forgot that hopping and running in the Temple were not prescribed behaviors. Regardless, Temperance smiled; she was proud of the young lady's quick mind to share what could potentially help Booth resolve the mysteries in the labyrinth.

Booth.

The door to the terrace separated him and her. It served as a warning to the outside world that only guests were allowed within the Temple. She wouldn't invite Booth in her world, but tonight was borrowed time to join in his.

She would go to him tonight as promised.

Looking side to side, ensuring that no one would witness, she lifted the latch and stepped across the threshold. The terrace was surrounded by trees. One side bordered along the heavy shrubs that led a path to the forest, and another was close to the narrow cobblestone streets. Their location kept them relatively hidden, unless others approached too closely.

Booth saw her shadow underneath the door. He saw her pause before opening the gate fully and stepping out. He couldn't help but tease. "Priestess, you have a habit of making me wait."

She shrugged; not apologizing for what Booth supposed was her right. Truth be told, he would wait for her until crows circled around him. And even then, he would fight the calls of Hades to wait for her in heaven.

"Booth. I have information for you that I hope will help."

Booth listened to Temperance as she related Claudia's recollection. In the end, he looked at her, amazed. Booth had little to do with the Temple but he wondered how all the years he had spent in Rome, this was the first time he was learning about the talents hiding behind the imposing statues.

"It looks like you've given me another reason to owe you. But this time, I actually have something back to offer."

There was a marble bench to the side and Booth directed Temperance to sit there. He didn't need to say words as stepping close to her caused her to step back and she had nowhere else to go but in his arms; or the seat behind her knees. It appeared that she opted for the latter as she landed softly on the seat.

"We talk about fire and life, and what else best represent that than food?"

Temperance looked at him with narrowed eyes, "I've already eaten, thank you."

"Aha. You've eaten, yes. But have you been fed?"

She looked up to where Booth stood and he produced a basket covered with clothe that he had brought with him. "Is there a difference?"

He kneeled in front of her so their faces were level, and grinned. "You tell me."

She gave him a suspicious look but agreed. "Alright, you may feed me."

"Close your eyes." He demanded as both his hands gently cupped her jaw, and his thumbs traced the lines of her lids as she obeyed his command.

Booth closely examined the contents of the basket he prepared. There was a variety of choices as his pantry was recently stocked. He selectively chose food that was distinctive enough to know by taste and texture.

He placed a slice of orange against her lips. "Keep your eyes closed, and tell me what you taste."

Booth's other hand traveled behind her neck and kept her head in place when she instinctively drew away at the new sensation. Recovering, her tongue slid across her lips "Something sweet."

"Good. What else does it taste like? What does it feel like?"

Temperance felt Booth's breath on her lips as he spoke. She wondered what he would say if she informed him that scent enhanced taste. Her senses could only focus on his scent, of mint and man, and this fact brought a heightened sensitivity to her buds, that whatever food he gingerly placed on her lips tasted sweeter than anything she ever had.

She felt the piece of food travel along her lips again, pausing in the middle to open her mouth slightly. Her tongue met it halfway until Booth withdrew it again.

"It's cold to the touch and smooth. It tastes of citrus as well."

"What is it?" He asked, almost whispered near her ears.

Temperance shivered, knowing it was not from the cold as there was characteristic warmth in the air. "What happens if I get the answer wrong?"

Booth paused. "Then you'll find out."

She thought about the unfairness of that arrangement but decided that she felt adventurous tonight. Confident about the accuracy of her taste, she said "It's an orange."

"Temperance?"

"Booth?"

"I almost wish you got that wrong."

She wanted to ask him why, what punishment he had in mind, but decided against it because she knew they were treading on dangerous grounds. But buried deep in the part of herself that knew no roles, no rules and no responsibilities, she almost wished she got it wrong too if only to find out what he would do. Instead, she asked with a triumphant grin, "Does that mean I'm right."

Booth finally put the piece of orange in her mouth and the slice tasted succulent. "What do you think?"

Temperance declared, "I think I'm up for the next one."

So Booth picked the dates, and an apricot, and a strawberry, and a grape, and a tart, and a blueberry.

Each time Temperance slightly parted her lips, waiting for another taste, Booth clamped on the need to offer his lips instead. To have her know that desire had a scent, a texture and a taste.

Despite his wishes and needs, and the fact that he had never been more erotically aroused at the sight of a woman licking her lips, he was aware of her status as a vestal.

Even a hardened soldier like himself had a conscience that called on him when he knew that he was on the other side of righteousness. Not exactly wrong, but not right either.

Because how could his feelings for her be wrong?

How could looking at her and aching at how beautiful she looked be wrong?

How could responding with joy, at the sight of her with eyes closed and a face that displayed a hint of eternity and the gods, be wrong?

How could being in her shadow, in the purity and goodness she exuded that Booth almost felt a touch of forgiveness for lives he'd taken with his swords, be wrong?

How could listening to her gasp, seeing her smile and knowing that he brought that pleasure to her as she correctly guessed each mysterious fruit that disappeared inside her mouth, be wrong?

But the goddess Vesta was looking out for her because she must have sent a few men inebriated with the spirits to walk near the terrace.

The loud and crude remarks they made as they approached alerted Temperance. Her eyes flew open.

Booth laid his forefinger on her lips to signal silence and he tossed the basket under the bench.

Then they run.

They could have stopped running after a few feet, far enough from the terrace to avoid detection.

But Booth offered his hand and he had a look that she could only imagine describing as mischievous. "Run away with me." It wasn't a question, but neither was it a command.

Temperance wanted to ask him what he meant. But her hands were in his before her mind could complete processing a more appropriate response and her feet were already moving to follow him.

They dodged branches the dipped low enough to tickle their faces.

She let him hold her hand as they hopped through fallen trunks and navigated their way through the trees. She couldn't remember the last time someone guided her in unknown lands. She was glad it was with him because despite the many contradicting and confusing emotions he made her feel, she always felt safe with him.

They reached a clearing, and they paused to catch their breath. They were both giddy from the successful escape from prying eyes.

There was no need for him to continue holding her hand. But he did.

"That was fun." He said.

Temperance nodded her agreement. She knew her gown had a tear, but she didn't care, she had never felt anything more exhilarating in her life.

Her face was flushed and warm. Beads of sweat made her gown cling to her body and the air had never felt cooler as she breathed.

Temperance could only imagine what Booth thought of her but his expression didn't indicate he found her current state offensive. She patted her hair back, aware that ribbons had gotten undone and her hair was now unbound.

Booth finally let her hand go to tuck stray curls behind both ears.

Because she was happy, she rewarded him with a grateful smile.

He continued looking at her, and she welcomed it. She was starting to like the way he made her feel.

Then he stepped back.

She was surprised because she hadn't noticed he was standing so close.

Then he looked up.

"Priestess, tell me what you see?"

"Temperance."

"What?"

"That's my name, you've used it before."

She heard him sigh and wondered why. She saw him close his eyes as if he'd spent a million nights studying the stars and didn't need his vision to know the treasures in the sky.

But he deprived her of hearing her name, and repeated. "Priestess."

"Why do you call me that?" Not a little hurt, she asked. For some reason, she wanted him to say her name. Not what she did, not who she was to the world. But her name, who she was inside.

Booth opened his eyes and let his head drop so he could look at her. His look was grim when he declared. "Because that's what you are."

"Oh."

"And so I won't forget."

Temperance let Booth's words fade into silence. She reminded herself of the fact that she was, indeed, a priestess; because for the first time in years, she thought of herself as other than that.

* * *

Another's note: A longer chapter this time, I hope you're enjoying these two fall in love as I am writing them : ) I don't normal change point of views this often within a chapter, did any of you find the narrative too confusing? 


	6. Chapter 5

Author's note: As always, I'm grateful for the feedback…I'm always happy to read them : )

Rating: A very strong T for mature subject content.

**_Sacred Fire_**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

The Temple was crowded with people. There were several men wearing a toga, walking around the square to accompany wives who had come out in abundance to take part in the festival, the Vestalia, to honor the goddess Vesta. This week, the mothers brought plates of food as an offering, and in exchange, they had the privilege of entering the Temple's sanctuary.

Booth searched the grounds for a blue-eyed priestess. Each vestal was wearing a headrest to cover her hair, making it difficult to distinguish one from the other. So it startled Booth to realize that he immediately zoned in on Temperance. It surprised him that he recognized the way she moved, with quick but graceful steps that accompanied her lithe form.

Temperance was carrying an empty plate and was headed towards the kitchen. She stopped several times as younger priestesses asked for her counsel or as visitors paused to give their respects.

Booth hurriedly walked from the side of one tower where he observed the crowd, and headed for the Temple to intersect Temperance before she disappeared inside.

He saw the questioning, almost panicked, look in her eyes when she spotted him.

He shook his head.

He slowed his steps to pass her by, and when their shoulders grazed, it was that instance when he whispered, "Meet me somewhere where we can talk. It's very important."

On his peripheral vision, Booth caught her slight nod. He also heard her stop another priestess and gave instructions to get more cereal cake for the consecration.

Booth was mindful of not gaining notice for his presence there. Luckily, there were several soldiers guarding the Temple so he could easily blend in.

Temperance headed towards the forest, stopping a younger priestess and taking the jug she carried. Booth saw the younger woman nod and happily head back to the sanctuary. It appeared the Temperance had just relieved her of an unwanted task.

Halfway, Temperance looked back and caught Booth's eyes. He nodded and followed her.

The crowd continued to buzz around Booth, albeit in hushed whispers and tones. Despite the movements of the people in front of him, his attention was focused on Temperance.

He smiled, shook his head, then laughed as they gained distance and was now in the grounds of the forest. Temperance ran; not the kind that signified escape, but that joyful hop for its sake.

She stole a glace back a few times to ensure that he was keeping up, but she kept her pace.

He wanted to run fast, catch up with her and wrap his arms around her waist. He wanted to nip the exposed skin on her shoulder that had come to view as the headrest loosened and fell. But he didn't. He let her lead and followed at a close distance.

They reached a protected area in the forest, the river a source of water exclusively for the priestesses' use.

"I've discovered last night that I like to run." Temperance said impishly, catching her breath and holding on to the jug in front of her.

Booth indulged her with a charming grin. "Did you?"

Temperance looked sideways, appearing embarrassed, but nodded.

He crossed his arm. He favored a tunic made of linen today, due to the warm weather, and left his cloak behind. "What else did you learn last night?"

She headed for the edge of the cliff with the river on the other side, slow in her steps and careful to avoid moss-covered rocks that put her at risk for slipping. "I learned that food tastes better when I'm fed."

Booth continued to follow her.

"And the terrace is not a good place to meet. We need something more private if we are to continue these lessons of yours."

Booth was about to inform her that he agreed when she looked back, as if discovering something that puzzled her. "And you like looking at me."

Spoken from another woman's lips, the statement would have sounded flirtatious, even inviting. Having her say it with such honesty and candid, Booth could only reply, "I do. You're beautiful to look at."

She bit her lip, thinking about his words and how it related to her. It was as if she considered something foreign that perplexed the definition of her self. "Do you think so?"

Booth looked at Temperance, with the sun streaming through the trees. In the light, her hair shone with highlights that reminded him of strands of precious gold. They framed her face softly. Her eyes were blue and bright, the color of the sky on a clear day like now. When he looked at her, he could almost see eternity and the universe reflected in their hue. Like the gods bestowed on her a secret that held the beginning of man and looking at them would reveal this truth. Her lips were full, the color of strawberries that he often wondered if they tasted as sweet, or if they would form words that would indicate she somehow favored him. The line of her body was framed in the gown that he could almost discern curves through the light material. He could almost see how he would fit with her and what she would feel like beneath his hands: warm, supple and woman.

But how would he tell her that? He didn't know another way but with the truth.

"I do. I don't think I've met anyone as beautiful as you."

He saw the change when the confusion turned to a genuine smile that came from a part of her self that recognized the honesty, in both intention and content, of his words. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Temperance proceeded to fill her jug. She hooked a rope around its mouth and lowered it about six feet down.

"Why don't you let me help you?"

"You won't do it any better than I." She replied.

It was when they heard the horses' hooves coming upon them unexpectedly and with great speed. Booth looked up over the hill and saw two soldiers on horseback patrolling the area. They hadn't been spotted so Booth acted swiftly and grabbed Temperance around the waist.

"Hold your breath!" He commanded before he jumped in the river and pulled them both under the water. The hill was high enough for sound not to carry the splash they created.

Temperance wrapped her arms around Booth's shoulders as they both surfaced up. Booth tilted his head to the falls, indicating that it was the best place to hide. They treaded water until they approached it, then swam underneath it and came up behind. Water cascaded down around them like rainfall on a sunny day.

It was a rare, but awe-inspiring, experience.

Temperance dipped under water again, coming up this time with her head back, gathering hair behind to leave her vision and face clear of wet strands. The white gown that gave her modest protection acted as transparent sheets that left nothing and everything to view.

Booth was sure she didn't know how seductive she looked or she would have swum back, very far away from him.

Temperance looked through the gap through the waterfall, observing, "The guards are still up there. We should stay her for a few minutes."

Typical of her, Booth was learning, she was quite task oriented. She asked, "So, tell me why you've sought me before tonight."

Booth almost forgot his reason for risking to see her alone in daylight. She had a tendency to do that, make him forget about anything but his want for her. He cleared his throat. "I found the man who approached Claudia. Angela drew him with uncanny resemblance"

"You did? Where?"

"I saw him at the senate meeting this morning. The gods must be looking down on us because I immediately spotted him sitting behind Senator Kryspin, and it appeared that he had the senator's ears."

"Who is he?"

"I did some reckoning and discovered that he is a nephew to the senator, and he is quite disliked."

"Do you have his name?"

Booth would commend himself later for having the ability to hold an intellectual conversation with her. "His name is Horatius."

Temperance took hold of his upper arm. "Then what are you doing here? Why aren't you questioning this man and sending him to prison?"

He covered her hand with his. "I was warned against it by my commander. He said that making an enemy of the Senator is not a wise military move. A lot are at stake, we need the support of the senate."

"How can you? I thought you said you will help."

Booth cupped her face, uncomfortable with her distress because it resonated with his own. He didn't think he would be able to let a man's deadly action go unpunished; it went against his values and vision. "I want to know the risks before I make a move. I need to find out what the senator wants before I confront him with it."

Temperance nodded, treading water away from him. "Okay."

She shivered then. Her lips had taken a pale hue. She reached out to where he touched her, perhaps to draw out the warmth.

So Booth swam to her, closing his arms around her to give more warmth. She initially tensed up at the contact, but he felt her sigh and mold herself against him so there was no space between them. He felt the heaviness of her breast, the curve of her waist, and the slight flare of her hips. She rested her head against his chest while their legs continued to work to keep them above water.

"You're warm." She finally whispered, tilting her head up.

Booth felt helpless, magnetized to do the inevitable sin that was destined to happen from the moment he saw her. He wished for forgiveness, because there was nothing on hades, earth and heaven that could have stopped him from kissing her at that moment.

It was brief. A touching of lips, pressed to greet each other for the first time, a promise to linger on the next.

But it was monumental nonetheless.

Temperance's eyes went wide as she tried to understand what just took place. Booth saw surprise, perhaps even wonder. But there was no reprimand, and god help him, neither was there regret.

"A kiss. To keep you warmer." He whispered as his thumb grazed her lower lip.

She nodded.

And because there were already enough sins, Booth did not like the acceptance of his lie.

The kiss wasn't shared because of a basic survival need.

It was given and received out of want.

He kissed her again, harder and with more passion this time. Her lips clung to his. He nibbled at their softness, they were better than any strawberries he ever had. He shifted to deepen it, getting to know the sweetness, and textures, and taste that was uniquely hers.

The kiss was honest in its rawness, no mistaking and no excuses for its intent.

She regarded him when he hesitantly ended it, then smiled with understanding.

"I'm warm enough, thank you."

He bit back a grin. His priestess had a sense of humor.

He shook his head. "A kiss, because I wanted you."

In hindsight, later on when he reflected on what happened before he slept, Booth would admit that he simply could have stepped out of vision and hidden from the other soldiers. Being a vestal, Temperance had every reason to fetch water from the protected area. In fact, it was one of her roles.

But, god forgive him, he wanted her.

* * *

Author's notes: Okay, I used some Latin names, yay! Did everyone figure out which characters from Bones I based Senator Kryspin and Horatius on? Let me know : ) Do you remember your first kiss? I hope I captured a little bit of that giddy feeling! 


	7. Chapter 6

* * *

Author's note: Hi everyone, thank you again for reading and leaving me a note! I'm very grateful. I also want to apologize for the long duration between posts. Thanks for your understanding.

Rating: A very strong T. A very mild M

(I want to keep this story in the T section but parts of this chapter wrote itself. Please read with discretion. Mature subject content.)

**_Sacred Fire_**

* * *

_**Chapter 6**_

Booth observed groups of young men in protected gears and iron helmets as they trained to be soldiers. One group was in line and marching the military steps, others were practicing tactical maneuvers, while some were learning the use of the sword. He looked at them with pride and optimism, recalling himself as a young man with wild determination to pass each trial of skill and test of physical endurance.

If he knew the type of death he would witness, the words he would believe and later discover as lies, the loss of friends in senseless whims of the emperor, Booth wondered if he would have said 'no, thank you' and headed back home.

It was too late for that now, he needed to be here and stand for justice. He owed the young man he had been, at least that much.

Booth spotted Horatius amongst the sword-fighting soldiers. He was demonstrating how to use the sword to deliver a blow without exposing the body to the enemy.

Booth walked slowly towards a group of a dozen, gauging to see how perceptive Horatius was by how quickly he would discover Booth's presence. Booth was almost behind him when he turned around. No wonder he was teaching and not out to war. Horatius would not last a day. But Booth was sure that whatever Horatius lacked in skills, he made up for with his malicious mind.

"You're interrupting my group."

"I need to speak with you."

Horatius challenged. "I'm busy, but perhaps we can talk as you help me show these young men how to use the sword most effectively."

Booth nodded and caught the sword that Horatius carelessly tossed at him.

Booth was on the defense as Horatius made short stabbing strokes with his sword, the shield in front of him. "What is your business, soldier?"

"I have reason to believe that one of the men in this training ground has approached a vestal priestess to secretly exchange a will for one of the senators."

For a second, Horatius paused his movements, before grinning and resuming his strokes with more force. "You may believe whatever you'd like, but without proof, you have nothing to go on." In a louder voice, he said "HIT!"

Booth stopped his defense and Horatius used the ram of his shield to knock Booth off his feet. Using proper techniques, Booth landed on his back. "A young priestess remembers him and has drawn a good likeness of him."

"Is that so? Will you risk the young priestess to take the stand and be questioned by the senators?" Horatius dispatched his sword and its tip was paper-thin away from Booth's naked chest. "Will you risk her life?"

Booth laid on the ground and continued to examine Horatius, confirming his earlier assumption that the man was capable of harm. He felt the tip go through the first few layers of skin before Horatius took it back.

Others would have offered a hand, Horatius continued to stare down at him. Booth got back on his feet, wiping a few drops of blood off his chest with no regard.

"Thank you for your time." He nodded to both Horatius and the group before walking off.

* * *

Booth needed to speak with Temperance. He searched the entire temple, even speaking with the chief vestal, with no success. So that evening, Booth headed towards their meeting place after supper.

The leaves on the trees rustled due to the increasing force of the wind as the night drew on. Booth paced back and forth, stopping his strides when he heard footsteps, only to discover that the heavy pounding against the cobblestones belonged to men on their way to various engagements of the night.

Booth watched as the moon moved in its course in the sky. He learned the various creatures living in this side of the wall – of spiders adding additions to their webs and of flies preferring to feed on his thigh earning a swat from him.

Booth walked around some more, picking up branches that have fallen and breaking them to pieces until each breaking sound got louder with contained dread, then acceptance that he was waiting in vain.

If he was a smart man, Booth would have come to the correct conclusion that Temperance will not show up for her lesson and she did not want to see him.

Unfortunately for both of them, Booth was a man of the heart instead of common sense.

* * *

Temperance sat on her bed, using weary fingers to smooth the tangles in her hair. She then rubbed her hands together, easing them from fatigue caused by working all day preparing mola salsa in the kitchen.

Admittedly, she could have let the others take their turns. Instead, she had remained there in solitude, trying her best to reason out the best solution to her ordeal.

Booth kissed her. She kissed him back.

The idea of forgiveness was a concept close to her thoughts.

But forgiveness constitutes remorse and, after examining her reactions, she concluded that she lacked it. Indeed, she felt dissonance that she contradicted a rule prescribed to her. She felt sad that the other vestals would be hurt and disappointed should they discover her actions. And if she was being honest, she sometimes wished that the circumstances were different and what she and Booth had done was not forbidden. Yes, she felt selfish for indulging a curiosity.

But feeling remorse? No, she wasn't sorry that she kissed him back.

If the world was different, she would have liked to discover where kisses led.

But the world was the way it was.

And her world had regulations she must abide.

So she hid herself inside the temple.

She didn't meet him tonight.

She wouldn't go tomorrow either.

* * *

Booth examined the rooms where the vestals resided at night. He followed Temperance last time when she took off from the library, and discovered which room belonged to her. He was thankful for having the foresight to know that this information would serve him a purpose.

Booth revealed himself by tapping the window. He sat against the ledge and swung his legs over the threshold.

Temperance stood up abruptly from bed, the state of her undress in a thin nightgown seemed inconsequential. She said indignantly, "What are you doing here?"

The heavens help him but even if he had good intentions when he came to see her, all good will would have been for naught after seeing her in this intimate state.

He gulped, he couldn't help it, and then shrugged. "I've been trying to find you. I've tried the civilized way, believe me, but the chief priestess was strict in insisting that your assistance will not be available until the Vestalia is finished in a few days."

Temperance crossed her arms, walking back to the window to draw the dark curtains shut. "You should have listened to her."

Booth narrowed his eyes. He had been so eager to see her, pathetically so that most of his thoughts consisted of a face with a pair of beautiful blue eyes. Wasn't she a little bit happy to see him too? "Priestess, in case you've forgotten, you and I have an arrangement. The matter I need to discuss with you can't wait until your…" he waved his hand dismissively, "… _festivities_ are done."

"These _festivities _are sacred. It required my full attention today." She glared, almost challenging him to contradict her.

"It required your full attention yesterday, and the day before – but you've always found time to fulfill our arrangement."

She couldn't oppose so she asked again, "What are you doing here?"

He continued to scowl as he stated. "I confronted Horatius today. His uncle may have used his influence to get him a training post with the military. I checked the records; he passed the most basic procedures and has little experience in combat. Regardless, he is vicious and has made a good point that we cannot risk accusing him of any wrongdoing without proof, and without exposing one of your own to a senate trial."

Booth's words drew an immediate conclusion from Temperance. "Cassandra, she's too young. She can't possibly face the questioning, let alone the prosecution of the senate. I must admit that the senior vestals have the ear of most senators. But to accuse one of their own of wrongdoing and to expose Cassandra…I don't know."

Booth nodded. "I suspect you might say that and I agree with you. That is precisely why they picked her to carry out their deceit. She is old enough to know the grounds but young enough not to have dealt with the senators or to carry power over them."

Temperance looked at him earnestly. "I want to prosecute the senator for causing Persinger's death, but…I don't know if we can pursue this if it involves risking Cassandra."

A fierce sense of wanting to protect enveloped Booth. He wanted to give her comfort and fix her world. "If I go ahead with the accusation, my word and other evidence may be good enough."

Booth had not experienced tenderness in a long time, he had almost forgotten what it felt like until Temperance's worries extended to him and she took his hands and squeezed them tight.

"Booth, if the military doesn't support you and you don't have enough evidence to convince the rest of the senate, then Horatius and the senator will hurt you."

As tightly as she held him, she quickly let him go. Pacing back and forth, she murmured. "There has to be another way." Then she paused, standing by the bedpost with a solemn gaze. "Promise me, you won't do anything until we think of something else."

He would have promised her the entire kingdom of Rome if she asked for it. "Okay. Not until we explore alternatives."

Temperance's sigh of relief was visible. "Thank you."

Booth remained standing, conscious that their tune had shifted and Temperance was increasingly aware that their conversation was about to take another life. They had said everything they needed to say about the mystery. She shifted her weight, glancing at the window and back to his face, as if she could will him to leave.

She looked like a goddess and nothing in his life had looked as lovely as she did. Finally, he said. "I won't apologize for yesterday. You and I were both there, and if my memory serves me right, neither of us was sorry then."

She nodded, "No, I'm not sorry. But neither am I a fool to invite another lesson of that nature."

"So you've been avoiding me all day? That's why you didn't come to see me tonight?"

Perhaps if she showed a hint of feeling badly for being inconsiderate of his feelings, or if she apologized for purposely making him wait, or even tried to make amends, he would have walked away and forgotten about their arrangement.

He would have told her that he understood her wariness, that they will solve Persinger's mystery and he will never see her again, and that it was right for them to move past their undeniable attraction and do as what had been prescribed of their roles.

But she didn't. Instead, the priestess stayed true to self and said, "I do as I please."

It had been a long time since anyone questioned Temperance's authority. She found she didn't like it. But she regretted the words as soon as she said them.

Temperance knew the moment when something inside of Booth unleashed itself. He leapt at her, she had no other word for it. Her back bumped against the wall and he was holding her bottom to keep her up. A few books lining her table tipped at the impact and were knocked sideways to the floor. Her legs were suspended against his thighs; unsure of what to do, she hiked her torso up and wrapped herself around Booth's waist, cradling a part of his anatomy that was different from hers.

With eyes wide, she stammered, "What are you…"

He shifted her so their lower bodies fitted better; throwing her balance so she had to clasp him tighter and forearms that rested on his chest were now wrapped around his neck for support.

"Here's your lesson for the night, priestess. I do as I please as well."

His head descended and she parted her lips to anticipate a kiss but his mouth landed below her jaw where her pulse exposed the unsteady and rapid beatings of her heart. She felt his lips and tongue and teeth, gasping as he sucked and soothed her. His movements were fast and rough, almost bruising if not for the tender licks that alternated the nips.

She squirmed, but each movement seemed to harden that part of him nestled against her. She felt like molten fire and liquid heat.

What was happening to her?

And why had she not thought about what to do if she was unsuccessful at avoiding him? How to resist when he was kissing her like this? How to cope when her mind seemed to have dulled and her body seemed to know how to respond, albeit in the way the mind would surely contradict?

Booth's head came up, his breathing hard as well, his eyes had taken fire she hadn't seen in him before.

"Watch!" He commanded.

She had no other choice, she was pinned against him and had no where else to go. The gown that covered her upper body was shredded in half as he bunched the collar with his fist and with a quick tug, ripped her garment. Before she recovered from the audacity of what he had done, she felt stirrings of forbidden anticipation as she watched him look at, almost devour, breasts that the torn gown revealed.

He licked his lips.

She bit her lower lip. That didn't stop her whimper.

Temperance's knowledge did not extend to what he could possibly do now. She didn't have to wait long before discovering the whipping pleasure as his wet mouth touched one peak. She watched as he closed his lips around her, the rosy tip disappearing. It seemed right to arc her back and spread out fingers through his hair and close them in a tight clutch to steady his place. She watched as his mouth moved in sucking motions, feeling his tongue against her, through her and straight to her core that was demanding closer contact with his body. She moved in a rhythm her body knew but her mind did not command. She watched as he moved from one breast to the other, feeling the heat, almost not recognizing herself.

The gown had hitched up to bunch close to her waist and she was appalled, but mesmerized, with the way her thighs, lighter than the skin on Booth's waist, moved back and forth against him in a seducing motion.

At that moment, she knew a different kind of prayer that had nothing to do with worship, sacrifice, or redemption.

"Please…" she whispered and she couldn't help but close her eyes and lay her head against the wall. It was as if she would expire from bliss if she continued looking at him, and herself, in this surreal state.

"Temperance."

She opened her eyes once again, her vision hazy as she tried to focus on eyes so brown, darker than she had ever since them.

"I told you to watch."

Booth nudged the hem of her gown higher; he didn't need much effort as she was mostly naked now against him. She tightened her grasp as she leaned more weight against his shoulders and watched as his hand traveled to touch her.

She had always imagined if there was anything on earth that looked, or tasted, or felt or smelled, or sounded like the heaven where the gods played. She didn't think there was as true pleasures were reserved for the gods.

She was wrong.

The gods must have favored mortals more than her cultured mind could have possibly imagined.

When his mouth returned to her breasts and when he touched her – with fingers that grazed around where she needed the pressure most intensely, with fingers that pressed against her and matched the rhythm her body had set, with fingers that pressed inside her and stayed there until her body tightened and quaked around it – she realized that for few moments in time, the gods had given mortals a glimpse of what eternity could be.

As her breathing slowed and the trembling eased, she had a vague regret that those who served the gods with most loyalty and devotion were deliberately deprived.

"Temperance."

Her eyes fluttered, trying to focus on Booth's face. He lowered her until her legs could touch the ground. He continued to pin her against the solid wall, for which she was grateful as her stance remained shaky. He cupped her face with the other hand, resting his forehead against her. He felt damp against her, and she against him.

Then, gingerly, he placed his forefinger against her chin and placed a soft kiss against her lips. He kissed her a few more times. If she had known the burst of pleasure earlier, he had just shown her the sweetest kind of contentment.

Temperance sighed in Booth's arms.

Booth admitted to himself that he would have seduced her no matter what she had said.

* * *

Author's note: Thanks for reading :) I hope no one is offended by the content.


	8. Chapter 7

Author's notes: Hi everyone. You can probably guess which recent episode inspired this chapter! I apologize again for the infrequent updates, its wedding season and on top of helping and attending my friends' wedding-related events (I've already had 2 and it's not even June yet!), I'm also trying to plan my own (I can see why people elope, which is still a consideration for me). As always, thanks for the feedback!

Rating: A very strong T. A very mild M

(Same as last chapter: I want to keep this story in the T section, so I sincerely hope it's still a very mild M. Please read with discretion. Mature subject content.)

**_Sacred Grounds_**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

Temperance peered through the slight opening, looking both ways before cracking the door half open to step outside. She used the side door by the kitchen to slip out of the temple. The grounds were often deserted there and the leaves overhead blocked the moonlight.

She paced her steps slowly, blending with the stillness of the trees. Her slippers were muted as they landed softly against the mud-like texture of the ground, damp from earlier rain showers. She circled through the trees, darting her gaze from side to side, continuing the surveillance of her surroundings.

Temperance noticed the shuffles behind her right away. Whoever those feet belonged to made no effort to hide. Temperance held her breath, silently rehearsing her lies, the excuses she made up to explain her presence in the dark.

Temperance licked her lips and counted to ten to even out her breath before turning back.

She was startled when she heard giggles. Looking down, she saw a little girl, eyes twinkling as she tried her very best not to burst out laughing. Both of her hands covered half her face, her shoulders rocking.

The young girl of seven kept her smile as she picked up her skirt to courtesy before Temperance, saying in a matter-of-fact tone, "I was following you, my lady."

Temperance's relief was so great, she grinned at the child. "I see that you are, Lady Florens."

Florens' smile turned pensive as she walked towards Temperance and reached up to hold her hand. They walked in the direction that had become second nature to them, heading to the heart of the fire. "My mama is a lady. I'm not."

Temperance kneeled in front of the little girl, examining her thoughtful expression. Her light brown curls reached her waist, her chin was round and proud, her nose pert, and her lashes surrounded dark eyes that would turn an ordinary face to something beautiful.

Temperance immediately recognized the wistfulness in the child's words. "You miss your mama, don't you?"

Her bottom lip stuck out when Florens nodded her agreement. "Sometimes it's fine, I don't even think about her." She fidgeted, looking down and finding something fascinating about the lace of her gown when she added shyly. "But today…today…I miss her."

Temperance straightened out and finished the last several steps to sit on one of the large rocks that surrounded the hearth. "Come, Florens." She invited, patting the spot beside her, "Why don't you tell me about your mother? Remembering people we miss and sharing them can sometimes help us to feel better."

Instead of sitting down, Florens stood in front of Temperance so they were face to face. The little girl cupped her cheeks and Temperance felt a combination of baby soft palms and sticky unknown against her skin.

Tilting her head to the side, Florens assessed with her seven year expertise, "She's pretty, like you."

Temperance smiled. "And like you."

Florence touched Temperance's hair lightly, "Her hair is the same color as yours. But longer, like mine, it reached up to here." Florens pointed to her waist. "She tells me stories when I can't fall asleep."

Understanding dawned. "Did you dream something that upset you, Florens? You can't go to sleep?"

Winding her forefinger with a lock of Temperance's hair, Florens nodded without meeting her eyes, "She also lets me play with her hair."

Temperance ached for her, for the child needing comfort and afraid of asking for it because she was supposed to be a 'lady' now, a special ward of the goddess Vesta. Temperance recognized the emotion as they painfully mirrored her own when she first arrived at the Temple: the child who still needed comfort and love in the same body as the vestal who served the gods selflessly.

Temperance shifted so that Florens could sit on her lap. The little girl eagerly accepted the comfort, settling herself against Temperance's shoulder, drifting her eyes shut and continuing to twirl the lock of hair with her finger.

This was how Booth found Temperance. She had her eyes closed, but unlike the child, Booth was aware that Temperance was not asleep by the way she gently stroked the little girls' back.

Booth waited in the shadows, giving her time to sense him. It didn't take long before she opened her eyes and scanned the darkness. Booth stepped out of his hiding place so she could see him.

Using a slim finger to tap her lips, Temperance signaled for him to wait as she balanced Florens in her arms and walked back to the temple.

* * *

Booth and Temperance walked side by side, between trees and over fallen trunks, the calls of crickets accompanying them. Their close proximity had Booth's knuckles brushing hers a few times, before Temperance took the non-subtle hint and grasped his hand with hers.

The moon took a crescent shape that made it difficult to see, as did the heavy clouds that hung low in the sky. They had to rely on other senses to locate their favored place of secret in the woods, with touch along trees they had gotten to know.

"I didn't mean to make you wait," she sounded so forlorn; her attempt at a smile was almost heart wrenching when she tried to jest, "at least not this time."

Booth stopped, lifting Temperance with strong arms around her waist, to step over a narrow brook. He gave her a quick squeeze before letting go; informing her that he was listening.

"Florens had a nightmare, I couldn't leave her alone until she feel asleep."

They reached the clearing and Booth tugged her down so they sat crossed-legged in front of each other. "She misses her home, huh?"

Temperance blinked her surprise at his correct assumption. She nodded, "How did you know?"

Picking up some loose grass then throwing them away, Booth grinned, "Hey, I left home when I was sixteen. Even now, there are days, when I can almost taste my mother's cooking."

Temperance looked at Booth with a puzzled expression, then declared, "I can't remember what my mother looks like."

"Temperance, I'm sorry."

She shook her head when she saw a flicker of pity in his eyes. "No, it's okay."

Her words of denial were negated by lone tears falling successively on her cheek.

"Sometimes, I'll smell a scent that reminds me of her, but it's elusive. I can never pin point the source. I'll lose her again, even if I close my eyes when I try to picture her."

Sniffling, she added, "Or sometimes, I'll lie down and I'll see a glimpse of her hand, sweeping hair across my forehead as she put me down to bed. I can picture her nightgown; it had lace around the cuffs. But I can't remember the rest of her."

Booth used his thumb to wipe away the tears. Dirt from his thumb left a smear on her flawless skin.

"And my brother, Russ, his memories are hazy. I think I fell on my knees and it's like I stirred up the dust and it covered everything. The only thing that I can remember is Russ' dark hair when he bent down to look at my scrape." Temperance shifted and hugged her knees together, looking down as she used a thumb to trace the faded scar.

Then words tumbled out, heartbreak finally had a vessel to pour out on. "And I don't remember my father at all. The image of the carriage he used to drive me here had faded long ago. But sometimes, I'd wake up with an echo of a lullaby that I think he used to sing."

Booth tried to offer soothing words, "Your family lives in who you are right now."

Temperance shook her head. "I'm a priestess, that's what I am. I try to recall a time when I wasn't, but every year, it gets harder. I usually see snatches of time, like an image of a cradle where I think I used to sleep, or a splash of water where I think I used to bathe, or a sword fight that my brother must have played."

Booth bent down to kiss her cheek, and her arm, and the scar on her knee.

Temperance cupped his cheek covered by stubble when he looked up. "When you're gone, I want to remember you."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and nestled against him. She inhaled his scent and licked the rain where her lips landed. "I'll remember that you smell of earth and taste like wine."

"Temperance"

"And I'll remember the way you make me feel when you say my name, with want and life and fire."

He commanded her to receive his seeking lips. "Shush."

She responded eagerly, breaking contact again only to tell him, "When this is all over, I'll make sure that I remember you."

Booth wanted to promise her that he would never go away. She would never have to remember him because he would always be there. But he knew they would be empty words. Their borrowed world, within the protective covers of the night, would one day end.

In an aching whisper, she pleaded, "Make memories with me so that I won't ever forget you."

As each tear fell on her cheek, the clouds delivered a thousand drops of rain.

Booth soothed them all away with each kiss.

Their lips clung, sought and gave as he lifted her gown off and she followed his actions by undoing the tie on his cloak. It fell against his shoulder and Booth broke their kiss to lay it on the ground. He reached for her again, letting his weight carry them down so they lay on their sides, giving his mouth access to the needy parts of her.

Temperance shivered when Booth started exploring her naked self, touching her back, her side, her front with lips and tongue and hands. The dark shadows of the trees made vision difficult, so they relied on touch and feel and scent. His callused palms rubbed away the goose bumps until she shivered and flushed with heat. His roughened thighs met with the smoothness of hers as she grasped him closer. Heavy breasts sought the hardness of his chest to ease the ache.

He pulled her closer and she rewarded him with tentative strokes against his jaw, of fingers against his chest, and of palm against his arms as she discovered his wild reaction to her. The touches grew bold as Temperance sought the burst of pleasure he had showed her the other night.

Then she found him.

He whispered her name in reverence.

She occupied her lips against his jaw, learning that sucking motions made him groan.

He expelled god's name in vain.

She touched his fullness the way he touched her while she continued her explorations.

He said her name in one explicative word of possession.

He rolled her on her back, she arched up when he took both of her wrists and locked them with his hand. She looked at him with wide eyes, feeling helpless and trusting as she lay vulnerably in his arms.

He hesitated, resting his fullness against her warmth and felt himself harden even more. He tightened his clasp against her wrists, grounding his forehead against the ground, aware that life and death was the barrier that separated them.

Booth asked for mercy when he saw her close her eyes, tilt her head back, open her knees and offer her self to him to do as he wished. The rain had mixed with her tears and the wetness between her legs.

She rocked her hips against him, easing the pressure building inside of her.

Booth called out to the gods to save his soul.

He surged into her. Her whimpers turned to pleas, to do what he did, again and again, deeper and deeper, until she was one with him.

She screamed his name over and over until her teeth found the flesh of his shoulders, grazing it. Her fingers tightened against his back as she trembled and he poured himself inside of her.

She gave herself to him with generosity and trust.

He took care to love her without regret.

* * *

_And if Temperance were to recall this night, she would remember Booth wiping tears off her face, replacing them with a new streak, and him declaring her as beautiful. She would remember hard but gentle hands making imprints on her skin. She would remember wet strands of Booth's hair when she clasped her fingers through them as he suckled on her breasts. She would remember hands touching Booth, on parts that are muscled, heavy, scarred and smooth. She would remembers pebbles digging on her back when Booth dropped his weight as he bit and soothed the hallow spot below her jaw._

_She would remember cold drops of rain against flushed skin. She would remember muddy grounds under her feet as she lifted both knees to anchor Booth's hips against hers. She would remember cries muffled by the water running along the creek. She would remember fingers digging on to muscled flesh, eyes shut and teeth biting on lower lips. She would remember the wetness and fullness and rhythmic clenching with intensity her mind and body would never let her forget. And most of all, she would remember the tenderness and comfort of heartbeat and rainfall lulling her to sleep, wrapped in arms filled with warmth. _

_

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_Author's note: Thanks for reading :)


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